


Exploding Dreams

by Sylla_Headhunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 12!!!, Don't hate me Pls, I may or may not have done platonic Klatt, Keitor Month 2020, M/M, We have the power of Satan and Keitor on our side, there is a LOT of matt in this how did this happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22231384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylla_Headhunter/pseuds/Sylla_Headhunter
Summary: Day 12: NaxzelaMatt is the only one who knows about Keith's barely-suicide mission on Naxzela (well, apart from Coran, really) and the way his friend disregards his own life is tearing him apart. Luckily, there is now another Galra on this ship - one that can hopefully shed some light on the way the Blade of Marmora works.
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron), Matt Holt & Keith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112
Collections: Keitor Month 2020





	Exploding Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> So this is supposed to be Keitor Month and my brain went full out platonic Katt?? I have nothing to say in my defense apart from the fact that I whipped this up about 4 hours to midnight ago and I have suffered a lot for this. Also, I will (once again) tell everyone to write more for this bc I just need to. It might become a (platonic) ot3 at one point, oops?
> 
> //Also, this is my first time writing Matt and BOI, did I have a blast! There's nothing quite as satisfying as ranting about a show through a character you love <3//

“ _Keith, no!”  
Matt feels his heart hammer in his chest, about to explode – just like his friend who is headed straight for a barrier they cannot put a dent into with all of their combined firepower. His friend, who is perfectly willing to sacrifice himself for something (his head likes to fill the blank with “the greater good” but whatever part of him believed in that, it doesn’t any more. It might never have), quiet acceptance in his voice crackling over the comms. _

“ _Keith!”  
Silence greets him and Matt punches the board in front of him, hard. The pain registers about a second too late, making him curse. One of his comrades places a hand on his shoulder and he can’t shake them, his body suddenly slumping down as if that one punch had drained him of all his energy._

_The shield shatters into tiny pieces and the small purple dot on their radars blinks out of existence._

“Keith!”  
He starts awake with his friend’s name on his lips, breathing harshly, his heart hammering just as much as it did the last day. He is not on his ship any more, he’s in his room – in his bed even. He is safe, and so is Keith.

Well, maybe.

It’s not like they are done living their second life far, far away from home; there is still much to think about, much to do. Many battles to fight.

Matt blinks and tries to wipe the sweat off his face, a few strands of hair plastered across his forehead from the nightmare that has ripped him apart, shaken the inner peace he has tried to acquire after Keith came out of that hellhole _alive._

“That went well, Holt,” he mutters to himself. “Nice peace and quiet you got there.”  
He hasn’t and he knows it. The fact that Keith is alive is a miracle and nothing else because his friend was willing to _die_ for everyone else without hesitating even one split moment.

“Teenagers these days.”  
He would laugh but honestly, the fact that his friend is barely legal in almost every state of the world does NOT help in calming him down.

Keith wouldn’t have survived to see himself reach number 19, had it not been for Lotor.

And no matter how much Matt doesn’t trust the Galra Prince, he can’t help but feel grateful for that bit.

Everyone else is already sitting around a giant table and Matt spots Keith almost immediately, his eyes zeroing in on the guy. He looks pale (nothing unusual), his dark hair unkempt (slightly more unusual since he normally rocks the “I haven’t done anything to this majestic mane in centuries except this is perfectly intentional”-look), dark circles blooming underneath his eyes (increasingly alarming) and wearing his uniform the Blade of Marmora must have given him (Matt will find every single one of them and rip them limb from limb). There is nothing on his face _per se,_ but Matt doesn’t have to look very hard for the signs (apart from the ones he has already listed).

Keith is not alright, and Matt can’t exactly blame him, even though his hands itch from the desire of shaking him a lot.

“Don’t look like that, brother dear and _sit_!”  
His sister’s voice cuts through Matt’s thoughts as effectively as a hot knife through butter and he blinks down at her. She’s wearing a tired grin (honestly, everyone on here is tired and he can’t blame them) and is as of now slapping the seat next to her aggressively towards him.

“S I T,” she enunciates. “Or I’ll throw my knife at you.”  
“Please do not.” But he follows her threat, dropping down next to her and ruffling her hair. “So how’s my favorite little sister on this … morning. Is it morning?”  
Pidge squawks indignantly and tries to shove him off. “Matt, stop that! I’m fine! Glad this is finally over, in fact.”  
His hand falls from her head and on to her shoulder to pull her in some kind of awkward half-hug (the chairs aren’t helping).

“Me too,” he mutters into her hair. She could have _died_ on there had it not been for-

“We wouldn’t have made it without your help.”  
Allura’s voice harbors a warmth Matt can’t feel he reciprocates because her words are far too wrong.

“The rebels’ help is greatly appreciated in this final war against the Empire, Matt. I am glad to have you on board.”  
She smiles at him and Matt feels his barely awakened appetite dwindle by the second.

“We didn’t do too much – if you want to thank someone for your lives, it should be Prince Lotor.”  
He can practically hear the moment his words barrel into all of them at the speed of light. Hunk’s fork clatters to the ground, followed by Lance’s softly muttered curse. Shiro takes a sharp breath (his equivalent of a scream, if Matt is being honest) and he feels his sister’s hand close around his wrist harshly. Allura’s hands tighten into fists.

Keith is the only one still looking at Matt without something foreign in his eyes – or rather, it’s the first time he has looked at Matt at all, at anyone in this entire room.

“Lotor will be dealt with accordingly,” Allura intercedes, voice grown cold and distant. “He is detained as of now for his multiple misdeeds against Voltron – and in the name of his father.”  
“He still saved your lives though.” Keith’s words are calm, almost a polar opposite to everyone else sitting around the table; even though he is the one Matt would actually _like_ to see upset about the fact that he almost sacrificed himself for these idiots. He doesn’t miss the way Keith talks about the others as if he hadn’t been there. As if he hadn’t been willing to fly into his own death.

It dawns on Matt before he can hear Allura answer the former Red (and Black) Paladin rather sharply, and he shoots out of his chair.

“You didn’t tell them?”  
Keith’s eyes widen, an expression swimming inside them for the first time in ages.

“What are you talking about?” he asks. There is barely contained panic and guilt coating his voice and it makes Matt see red. This self-sacrificing, brainless _idiot_!

“You know what I’m talking about, Keith. Are you out of your mind? You think you can just let this go and everything is going to be _fine,_ as if you hadn’t-!”  
“Yes! It’s fine! We’re alive, aren’t we?” Keith barks back, barely refraining himself from shaking. He is standing, too, looking ready to bolt from the room and everyone in it currently measuring him with faces that range from righteous fury and worry (his own expression, or what Matt assumes he looks like) and bewilderment and something like shock (everyone else, excluding Coran, who just seems to look very, very weary).

“Number Four, please calm down,” he tries and Keith blinks at him, eyes softening.

“I’m fine, Coran,” he says and Matt is ready to punch something squarely in the face. Keith is decidedly _not_ fine and no one seems to see it – or care about it, which is somehow even worse.

“Fuck, Kogane!” is the only thing he manages to say through clenched teeth. Shiro sucks in a breath, his chair scraping across the floor as he stands up himself.

“Matt, Keith.”  
He’s using his best dad voice on both of them and Matt presses his lips together as tightly as he can manage. He wants to help Keith, wants to get rid of his issues but not at the prize of everyone knowing about them without his friend’s consent. He has officially fucked this up as royally as possible.

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks and Matt shrugs, trying his best to remain calm and collected – two words he hasn’t been since he got kidnapped by giant purple grapes.

“It’s personal, Shiro.”  
Shiro, bless his soul, opens and closes his mouth, his eyes scanning Keith and the way he seems to barely hold it together, before sighing.

“I see. Please let me know if you need any help with this … personal thing, alright?”  
Shiro’s the best.

“Sure, _dad_ ,” Matt grins, trying to defuse the tension surrounding them. Shiro paints a rather unconvincing smile on his face, eyes awash with concern. Th other Paladins dissolve into partly confused and partly exactly as fake giggles, and Keith walks past them in a brisk pace, pale cheeks flushed with color. Matt blinks once before scrambling after him, practically slamming the door in someone else’s face on his way out.

“Keith, wait!”  
His friend doesn’t turn around but he does falter to a stop which gives Matt the opportunity to catch up to him without sounding like he just died on a race track. It doesn’t really make the words come out easier, though.

“I’m sorry,” is what he finally settles on at first. “I shouldn’t have said all that in front of … well, everyone, honestly. That’s your problem and it’s not my business to tell the world. I’m just … I’m worried about you, Keith.”  
Reasoning with his friend is hard, he’s used to that – he isn’t, however, used to Keith not answering at all. He just takes all of it in, shoulders drawn towards his chin and so utterly, completely silent that Matt feels a shiver run down his spine.

“Keith?”  
“We had to finish the mission.”  
The words are like a punch to the gut but before Matt can say anything, even react in any way, Keith continues, voice like broken glass breaking through Matt’s skin.

“The mission is more important than the individual. I’m just, just one person, alright, Matt? I did what I had to do. I did what was right.”  
Confusion, pain and suffocation give way to burning fury, until Matt feels like he can’t breathe properly. “What the fuck, Kogane,” he spits out and Keith flinches away from him, but he’s not done yet.

“Who told you that?!”  
Keith’s only answer is his hand clenching around the handle of his knife but it’s enough for Matt to piece everything together, rage almost blinding him. His friend doesn’t exactly care a lot about himself but he is by no means suicidal – at least until now. Until he joined a group of veiled terrorists who have apparently encouraged his friend to do the one thing Matt can and will throw hands about.

He will find them and grind their bones to dust.

There is just a tiny problem apart from the fact that he can’t physically lift one of them an inch above the floor – he has no idea where any of them actually are or how he’s gonna reach out to them. They aren’t a secret Galra Group for nothing …

_Ah._

He grabs for Keith’s arm, his friend jolting in his grip, before jogging down the hallway towards someone who might be able to help with at least one of those issues and overall give him a better understanding of Galran empathy (or the lack thereof).

The room is almost entirely empty and Matt lets go of his friend’s hand. Keith slumps down against the wall, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. It’s enough to get Matt to worry about him again but he can’t stop _now._

“I do realize that it is not my ship nor any part of my jurisdiction, but I would certainly love to be informed about your reasons to barge into this room like a threatened beast.”  
The smooth voice cuts through Matt’s thoughts pretty effectively and he feels himself straighten up without actually wanting to. Lotor is looking at the both of them, one eyebrow raised expectantly and it makes Matt feel like a small child about to confess to a crime he committed earlier this day. He does not appreciate the feeling.

“You won’t love it, probably,” he answers instead. “I want to know more about the Blade of Marmora.”  
Lotor’s eyebrow kisses his hairline. “Whatever for? Aren’t they allies with Voltron – unlike me? What could you possibly learn from me that they have not already answered?”  
Since they haven’t answered any of _his_ question at least: everything the Prince knows about them.

“I want to know about their credos. How they work.”  
_Why they get a child to commit suicide._

“Should you not be posing those questions to another person residing in this room?”  
Lotor nods towards Keith, who barely raises his head, skin pale as paper, eyes firmly trained on the floor. There is an intrigued light flickering to life in the Prince’s eyes.

“I’m not asking him because he’s not telling and because he’s the reason I’m here,” Matt puts it as bluntly as physically possible. “I’m asking _you_ because you’re the only Galra I know, the only Galra _around_ and because you are the reason he is still around.”  
Keith’s head jerks upwards at that, his eyes wide and his sclera tinted an alarming yellow. “I’m right here, Matt,” he hisses with no real heat behind his words. Matt just scoffs but there is fury mingling with dread rising inside of him.

“Yes, and it’s no thanks to them OR their teachings! It’s quite the opposite, actually – can’t you see just how unhealthy all of this is, Keith?! Look, I’m trying my best not to judge in most situations but ‘most situations’ doesn’t apply to you doing the suicide dive because ‘my life isn’t as important as the mission’!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Lotor’s voice, sharp as a whip, cuts through the tension building in Matt’s body and he whirls around, no longer able to keep his anger even slightly at bay.

“Had you not destroyed that shield and the weapon with it, this idiot would have died trying to rip it apart with his own body, that’s what’s the meaning of this!”  
Those pale blue eyes widen almost imperceptibly.

“But he is a _child_.”  
Matt hadn’t been so sure about this whole idea – about trusting Lotor, about even _talking_ to him in the first place – but it’s the Prince’s immediate response, the way incredulity bleeds into his words that makes his doubts evaporate into nothing but stardust.

“ _Thank you,”_ he mutters with a sigh. “Finally someone with an ounce of reason on this damn ship.”  
  
They have been talking for a while now but Keith has honestly not payed a lot of attention to most of it, his head still reeling from the way Matt has talked about it all, the way a man he has never known talks about his fate – the obvious one. After all, an entire quadrant comes first, does it not? What is his life compared to everyone else living near Naxzela?  
“Keith, right?”  
The voice cuts through his thoughts and makes him reconnect rather harshly with reality. He blinks up and into two pale blue eyes, scrutinizing him for agonizingly long seconds, before Lotor inclines his head towards him, his face softening almost imperceptibly.

“I understand your way of thinking to an extend. You are fighting in a war and you have to be willing to sacrifice in order to gain. I do not, however, condone the way you think about your own life.”  
Keith stares at the Prince, confusion probably evident on his face, and Lotor hesitates for a split second before placing a large hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“You are not just an asset to be used, Keith. Remember that. Your friend,” the Prince inclines his head towards the door Matt has just left through, “seems to hold you in high regards.”  
“He’s an idiot,” Keith mumbles and Lotor shoots him somewhat of a sharp look before sighing and letting go of his shoulder.

“Consider his words carefully. I would much rather ally myself with someone understanding the weight of a sacrifice than someone willing to turn everything into a mindless pawn worth nothing but the end results.”  
With that, Lotor leaves his side and walks over to a small cot, seating himself with all the grace an exiled Prince can muster. Keith stares after him for a full minute before feeling his cheeks heat and turning around to leave this place before anyone suspects … well, something. He’s not sure himself, though.

Lotor’s words stay stuck in his head for a long while.


End file.
